


Behind Every Scar

by Kellyscams



Series: Whumpness [6]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Blackmail, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captivity, Dark, Dark fic, Electrocution, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Gen, Graphic Description, Hopeful Ending, Hostage Situations, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Sensory Deprivation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: Bucky doesn't know who his captors are. He doesn't even know what the fuck they want from him. All he knows is they're pissed and he's paying the price.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Whumpness [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954231
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	Behind Every Scar

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Bucky gets kidnapped and held hostage to make sure Steve stays out of the bad guy's way. And every time Steve tries to rescue or track him down, Bucky pays the price
> 
> **Please, mind the tags! This IS a _Dark Fic_ and should be treated as such. If you think you might be triggered do not read!**

Bucky’s lost track of time. There aren’t any windows in this godforsaken room; only the brightest fucking fluorescent lights imaginable which make up the entire ceiling. Even _his_ eyes hurt if he looks up at them. They’re on all the time, and what’s worse, their reflection kicks off the white tiled floor and walls. Sleep is next to impossible. Bucky can stay up quite a while without rest but he still needs it. 

At least they’ve strapped him down to a bed now. When Bucky first arrived, they had him naked and locked on an iron chair. Not an exaggeration either. The goddamn thing was made of iron and they’d either turn up the AC or the heat to unbearable temperatures, making the seat even more uncomfortable to sit on. 

Now, still naked, he’s on this stupid bed. Just a prison bed with the thinnest padding imaginable beneath his body but it’s better than the fucking chair. In his arm, he’s got an IV--he has no idea what it’s attached to, the tubes come out of the wall--pumping god knows what into his body. Every now and then, the clear liquid turns to a rusty color and when that happens, his entire body writhes in pain. The burning. The shards of glass that rip through his veins. 

What follows is always worse. 

It changes every time--from typical beating the shit out of him the good old-fashioned way to complete sensory deprivation--but there tend to be three stand-bys. 

First, is the high-pitched sound. It echoes through the room, bouncing off the walls and floor. At first, it’s not so bad, but the longer it goes on, the more torturous it is, and Bucky has no way to cover his ears to escape it even a little. When they turn the sounds on, between them and the light, sleep--even the most basic form of rest, daydreaming, thoughts--becomes impossible. All he knows is that fucking sound. It’s enough to drive him nearly insane. 

The second and third involve people coming into the room. They’re impossible to take in resolved silence. Impossible to grit his teeth and bear it until it’s over. Not when someone comes in with a knotted cord and whips it against the bare soles of his feet, his inner thighs, and, worst of all, his fucking nuts. No matter how hard Bucky tries, he can’t help crying out during that one. He’s always left panting and sweating and on the brink of begging for at least his hands to be released so he can grab himself. So far, he’s managed to refrain.

The last thing, Bucky thinks, might be the worst. Not because it hurts. Not because it keeps him from getting a moment’s peace. Not because he wants to beg for them to stop. While it _does_ do all those things, it’s made all the worse by how violating it is. Demeaning. Humiliating. 

When that fucking guy comes in with a handful of feathers, Bucky’s lip quivers and he whimpers and he wants to cry. Every fucking time. Because despite the draining torture of the sounds and the physical torture of the whipping cord--and all the other bullshit they’ve put him through so far--being ruthlessly, mercilessly, unrelentingly tickled takes something from Bucky every single time. 

For as long as Bucky can remember, tickling--silly and playful--had been a...a _thing_ between him and Steve. When they were a pair of punk kids wreaking havoc on the streets of Brooklyn. During the war after Steve received the serum. In Wakanda while Bucky recovered. And afterward. They liked it, both of them, as a way to get out of their heads and unwind. A sense of trusting helplessness that resulted in some of their hottest sex sessions and warmest cuddles. 

Now that’s gone. These fucking assholes have taken something private and intimate for Bucky and twisted it into something warped and wrong. Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get it back. 

No one ever says a word to him--they sometimes speak to each other but much too softly for Bucky to understand--and Bucky’s long since given up trying to get them to answer him. Four men in total, so far as he can tell. Hydra, he assumes. Or some other evil organization hellbent on taking over the world. 

He thought, at first, that the reason they came in to hurt him was for violating some rule he hadn’t been made aware of. For screaming and insulting them. For fighting back. Trying to escape. 

It can’t be any of that since they’ve gone on with their torment even though Bucky’s stopped fighting. Not that he’s given up. Fuck no. Being broken down and remade into a monster once is enough for him, thank you very much. But if he’s going to get himself out of here--wherever here is--he needs to survive. To save his strength and wait for the most opportune moment to strike. 

If he can just figure out what the fuck it is that they’re so mad about, what he’s doing to earn their goddamn punishments, then maybe he can avoid the extra torments in addition to captivity and complete reliance of his captors. He’ll fucking do it. Or not do it. Whatever will spare him the pain and agony and humiliation. 

Worse than that, Bucky doesn’t know what they _want_ from him. No one’s said a fucking word. No interrogation. No questions. No threats. Hell, they haven’t even tried to brainwash him again. Maybe if he knew what they wanted from him, he could at least lie and buy himself some more time between torments. 

There’s been a lull lately. This is the longest he’s gone without being punished. The only reason they’ve come in is to feed him. Bucky takes that to mean they don’t want him dead. Not yet, anyway. 

Bucky drifts in and out of sleep, and when he does, he dreams of Steve. Sometimes, when he’s awake, Steve remains and Bucky gets to tell him how much he loves him. Sometimes, Sam is there, and they bicker like an old married couple. Sometimes, Natasha is there, and they converse in Russian. Sometimes, Shuri is there, and they reminisce about their time together.

They always disappear, though, and Bucky’s once again left on his own trying to figure out a way out of this. 

Bucky’s startled awake again when the door swings open and slams against the outer wall. His eyes take a few moments to adjust to the harsh, unrelenting lighting. He smacks his lips together. Tries to focus only to be shocked to all hell when a bucket of freezing cold water is tossed over him. Two. No, _three_.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he gasps, spitting water from his mouth and shaking it from the ends of his hair. “Y’know, if you wanted me to shower, you could’ve just let me.”

He flicks his gaze up to the man standing over him. The person in charge, he figures, since he always comes to a torture party dressed in a suit and tie. Someone important. Not just some lowkey criminal. This is something more than drugs or organized crime. He reeks of money and deceit, and when he smirks at Bucky’s witty comment, Bucky realizes this goes a lot deeper than a simple evil organization. This is political. Corruption within. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

“Look,” Bucky says between clenched teeth, “I dunno what the _fuck_ you want, but I _can’t_ fucking get it for you if you _don’t_ fucking _tell_ me!” 

Mr. Suit-and-Tie sits down on the folding chair that Bucky hadn’t even realized was there with them. He inhales deeply and sort of hums on the heavy exhale. A disappointed kind of sound that makes Bucky’s stomach twist. 

“You still haven’t figured it out yet, Sergeant Barnes?”

Oh, looks like they’ve built up enough of a relationship for actual conversation. Well, that’s a step in the right direction. 

“My _name_ ,” Bucky growls, “is Bucky.” 

He waves his hand in the air at this, as though it’s unnecessary. Maybe in the grand scheme of things it is, but Bucky’s been stripped of his identity before and he’s in no rush to let it happen again. 

“Well, Bucky,” he replies. “I’m afraid things are quite…complicated for you while you’re in our custody.” 

While he speaks, Bucky does what he can to retain any information his brain will allow. White. American. Mid-western, maybe. Early 50s. Six feet, average build. Well educated. Sandy brown hair, dark brown eyes. Tattoo on the inside of his wrist. Angel wings--go fucking figure. 

“Maybe you can uncomplicate it for me,” Bucky says. “I can probably keep up.” 

“Yes, I’m sure you can. You’ve proven to be very resilient to our methods.” How flattering. “But, you see, the problem is that they’re not _meant_ for you.” 

Confused, Bucky blinks at him. That makes no sense. Why the fuck would they have him here if they didn’t want anything from him? 

He only gets a few seconds to consider what’s actually going on--which gives him no time to draw any logical conclusion--since one of the other men comes back in with another two buckets of ice water. Before Bucky gets the chance to prepare for it, he dumps them both over him. This time, Bucky’s left gagging and choking up water while struggling to breathe right. 

“ _You_ , Bucky,” Suit-and-Tie says, “are going to help me since your Star-Spangled friend won’t learn on his own.” 

The mention of Steve makes Bucky’s heart fall flat against his stomach. His blood runs cold. This isn’t…this isn’t about _him_. It’s _never_ been about him. It’s about _Steve_. 

“Wh-what do you want from Steve?” 

“Honestly?” He huffs a laugh. “Nothing. As in, I want him to _back_ off and stay _out_ of my _way_. Unfortunately,” he says, “our efforts at convincing him have been fruitless. He still tries to stop us. He _still_ tries to rescue you.” 

Bucky’s eyes close and he smiles. Steve really knows how to be a thorn in everyone’s side when he wants to be. 

“He won’t stop,” Bucky says. Satisfied and smug that he at least has _this_. “He’ll come for me no matter what you try to do to him.”

“Oh, we figured that out years ago.” He wags his finger at Bucky as though to stress how inept he’s being. “So, it’s not what we’ve been doing to _him_ , per se, but rather, what we keep doing to _you_ whenever he interferes.” 

Eyes flying open, a breath catches in Bucky’s throat. A tremble flies up his spine, his stomach turning with the implications. He does what he can to hold back getting ill. He’d really rather avoid throwing up all over himself. Prickling fear numbs his insides as he drags his gaze back to Suit-and-Tie. 

“Have you worked it out yet?” he asks. “Hm?”

“You…you mean--”

“That’s right.” He nods. One slow, long motion. “Every time _he_ interferes or makes another feeble attempt to rescue you, _you_ pay the price.” He gestures to someone outside of the room. Someone Bucky can’t see. “At first, I thought he was such a stubborn son of a bitch. We’ve sent him pictures. Proof that we were making good on our threat. But it doesn’t seem to be enough for him.”

Whoever he gestured to comes into the room now. The man who usually tickles him, but he doesn’t have any feathers this time. Instead, he’s got a folding tray under one arm and a laptop under the other. He sets up the small table, placing the computer on it and opening it. The screen is still black, but Bucky imagines it won’t remain that way for long.

After he leaves, another one comes in, this time coming in backwards and pulling a hand truck with him. Well, that’s new.

“Oh.” Bucky scoffs. “Something different today, huh?”

Once again, his smartass comment doesn’t faze Suit-and-Tie in the least, and Bucky actually regrets it when he sees what they’ve brought in with them this time. On the hand truck are three car batteries, one stacked over the other. Attached to it, is a long prod. He parks the thing next to the bed and behind him is Tickle Man again, this time with two _more_ buckets of water. 

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters under his breath and tries to steady his heart. Hard, that, when they’re planning on electrocuting him. 

Supersoldier or not, this is gonna fucking suck. Bucky doesn’t want to show his fear but…he’s fucking terrified. Especially when the other two guys grab the corners of the head of the bed and haul it up, balancing the thing against the wall and yanking the thin, flimsy mattress out from under him. Which means they’ve got him strapped to a metal bed frame, naked, and soaked to the bone. 

“Since our initial attempts at keeping Captain Rogers at bay have proven useless,” Suit-and-Tie says as one of the others forces a cloth gag between Bucky’s jaw and secures it behind his head. “I’ve decided we should…take it up a notch.” He chuckles at his sort of pun. “If you’ll excuse my humor.” 

Bucky gives him a sarcastic grin through the gag and pretends to laugh. He wishes like fucking hell he wasn’t shaking all over. It’s not just because he’s cold, but if they ask he’ll swear it is. 

“Now, if a picture’s worth a thousand words,” he says, reaching over and pressing the power button on the computer, “then how much would you say a live feed is worth?” 

As soon as the laptop powers up, Bucky wants to cry. Either out of desperation or joy or horror. He bites down on the gag as hard as he can to keep his emotion in check. On the screen, sitting on the corner of their bed with his head held in his hands as though he just can’t keep it up any longer, is Steve. 

And he’s crying. The others probably won’t be able to tell that, but Bucky can. In the way his shoulders shake. In the stiff way he tries to hold himself.

Try as hard as he might, Bucky can’t help the whimper that crawls up his throat. Luckily, the gag muffles most of it, but Suit-and-Tie must hear since he looks up and chuckles. 

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” he says, gaze still trained on Bucky. Bucky watches as Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of Suit-and-Tie’s voice. “Am I coming in clear enough?”

Steve glances around and it doesn’t take him long to pinpoint where the voice is coming from. His computer, Bucky assumes, is probably on the nightstand. Probably left opened after a previous use. Steve slowly rises to his feet and makes his way over to it, looking closely but seeing nothing because on this end, the camera is still off.

“You seem to have an advantage,” Steve says. “You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

“Ah, yes. Where are my manners?” His voice is being distorted. Bucky doesn’t know how. “I’m the man you’ve been looking for.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods. “I had a funny feeling.”

“Don’t bother with the trace, Captain,” he says. “The IP address is being rerouted every few seconds. Even Stark wouldn’t be able to trace it.”

“You’re pretty confident.” 

“I have reason to be.”

Jaw tightening, even on a small computer screen, Bucky can see the venom in Steve’s eyes. The pure rage that fuels him at this very moment. Not many people have been on the receiving end of that look.

“What do you want from me?”

“Same as I wanted last time,” Suit-and-Tie replies. “For you to stay out of the way.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“ _Both_.”

“Even though we have your precious Bucky?” 

Steve falters at this. His eyes lose some of that edge and he swallows roughly. He lowers and then shakes his head.

“How do I even know he’s still alive?” 

His voice drops significantly in volume and strength. As though it takes a great deal of effort just to get that much past his lips. 

“See for yourself.”

Suit-and-Tie clicks the little camera icon. On the bottom left side of the screen, a little window pops up with Bucky in it and he gets a good look at himself. Fuck, he’s a goddamn disaster. Beat to shit. Shivering. Wet. Gagged. Exhausted. 

To be honest, he probably looks a lot worse than he feels. 

Of course, Steve has no way of knowing that and the second he sees the image his face falls. He gasps, clapping a hand over his mouth. His eyes fill with tears. A pained sound gets stuck in the back of his throat. 

“Bucky…” His voice cracks on a whisper. “Oh, baby, I-- what the _fuck_ did you do to him!”

“Hey, hey! _This_ is all _your_ doing! I wouldn’t have _touched_ him if you had stuck to your end of my proposed bargain! _You_ did this to him, Captain Rogers. Every mark, every bruise, every tear shed, every agonized scream happened because _you_ were too stubborn to listen.” 

By the look on Steve’s face, Bucky thinks he might actually consider that the truth. It makes him want to scream. None of this is Steve’s fault. _They_ did this to Bucky. They took him. Drugged him. Tortured him. All of this is on them. Besides, it’s not as though Steve had any reason to believe he’d live up to _his_ end of the bargain either. These aren’t exactly upstanding citizens. 

“So here’s my _second_ offer to you, Captain Rogers.” First, he pans the camera out so that Steve can see what’s next to Bucky. His eyes go wide. “You are not going to interfere for a while. With anything. I don’t care _what’s_ happening, you and your little band of costumed freaks will ignore _everything_ that you would normally get involved with. Understand? No crime fighting. No surveillance. _Nothing_. You will also refrain from trying to find your little friend here. If you can agree to and follow these terms, no more harm will come to Sergeant Ba--oh, excuse me, no more harm will come to Bucky.” He gestures just enough that his hand appears on the screen for a split second. “When we’re finished with our operation, he will be returned to you. Simple enough, yes?” 

Even over a computer screen, Bucky can see the conflict, the shame, the guilt in Steve’s eyes. His lip quivers as this conundrum is presented before him. Either he agrees and turns his back on his morals--his natural instinct to do the right thing and help anyone and everyone--or he allows this ordeal to continue for Bucky. Bucky already knows what he’ll choose and he can’t let him. 

These people are not only lethal but have power. They’ll hurt and maim and kill. Innocent people will suffer. One way or another, if they accomplish whatever their goal is, innocent people will suffer. 

“I…I can’t…” There’s a tremble in Steve’s voice. “I can’t do that.” 

Suit-and-Tie sighs. “I had hoped--”

“No,” Steve interrupts. “I don’t mean…I can’t…” He lowers his head in shame. “I can’t not look for him. I _can’t_.” 

“Ah. I see the problem.” He lifts his fingers. Steve obviously can’t see that, but he can see one of the other men, now wearing a ski mask, step into view and pick up the prod. “Then we’ll just have to have Bucky here beg you not to go looking for him.”

With no more warning than that, he touches the tip of the prod to Bucky’s body. Right against his ribs. 

Bucky _screams_ through the gag, his vision going white. His body spasms wildly against the bedframe in some feeble attempt at escaping the fire that scatters inside it. It goes on forever and ever and ever, and when it finally subsides, he’s out of breath and shaking violently. 

Drool leaks through the cloth in his mouth. Someone else is screaming. He can’t tell who. Not over the pounding pulse in his ears. Bucky tries to lift his head but all this gets him is another voltage of electricity through his body, this time entering at his armpit. 

“Christ!” he swears when it lets up again. Panting. “Fucking…fuck you. Fuck you, _fuck you_!” 

“Hit him again.”

Right before he does, Bucky can hear Steve’s pleas on his behalf. His voice shattered to pieces while he begs for them to stop. To leave him alone. That he agrees, he’ll do anything, just stop hurting him. 

This time, the prod is jabbed against the sole of his feet and Bucky wishes his fucking leg would just go numb already. But the voltage is just shy of high enough to make that happen and all he can do is endure it until it’s taken away again. 

“Stop it! Please, stop it! Leave him alone! I’ll do whatever you want just leave him alone!”

Shut up, punk, Bucky wants to tell him. I can handle it. M’fine.

It’s not the worst pain he’s suffered. The wipes alone were worse than this. To be fair, this comes close, but if he survived years of that goddamn device then he can get through this. 

Kinda hard to get any coherent words let alone sentences out when there’s a gag in his mouth and he’s just been hit with who knows how many volts. 

“You had your chance, Captain,” Suit-and-Tie says, taunting and enjoying it. “Now you’ll wait until Bucky breaks and begs you not to come for him.” He looks at his lackey. “Again.” 

Right into Bucky’s belly button. Fire danced wildly through his guts, up his throat, and out his mouth. Too bad this didn’t make him a fire breathing badass. He’d heard a story once from Rhodey about that. Bucky lets loose a maniacal laugh at this thought the very second the prod is off of him. 

“Well, he looks to be enjoying himself. Why don’t you turn it up a little?”

The second man, who Bucky hasn’t been paying much attention to, turns the knob on the top battery up two clicks. Once he does, the prod is next applied to his fucking nipples. His goddamn _nipples_ and if this gag wasn’t in his mouth he’d taunt them for being so fucking kinky. 

Unfortunately, there _is_ a gag in his mouth and every time they stop electrocuting him they ask if he’s ready to tell Steve not to go looking for him. Each time this happens, Steve pleads with him to just do it, and it sounds like he’s crying, and Bucky would give anything to end his pain _and_ this pain, but he can’t do it. 

Not because he doesn’t want Steve to come find him but because, more than that, he doesn’t want this piece of shit to win. Steve needs to go on doing what he does best. He needs to figure out who these people are and what the fuck they want and if they give in now… 

“Bucky, please!” Steve’s desperate voice breaks through the static running through Bucky’s brain. He lifts his head, drool dribbling down his chin. Bucky can make out the unmistakable taste of bile. “Bucky, just tell them you don’t want me to look for you. _Please_ , Bucky, _please_!” 

Eyes planted on the screen in front of him, on Steve’s horrified and tear-streaked face, Bucky realizes they’re both crying. The thought of watching Steve go through this is arguably far worse than experiencing it himself. Bucky would burn down the world to find Steve. No matter how hard he begged him not to. But he’d still do whatever it took to cease this torment for him. Even if that meant lying. 

And Steve, Bucky knows, will turn the world to ash for him as well. 

Before he even has a real chance to consider giving in, one of those extra buckets of water is tossed at him again. It catches him by surprise and has a very nasty side effect of making him even more aware than he was a second ago. 

Bucky’s still trying to gather his bearings from that last dose of water when they stick the prod against his inner thigh--by far the worst of it all so far. He flails around in another useless attempt to escape the pain, even just for a few seconds. His tormentor does grant him a little mercy when he takes it away again. But without being instructed to this time, he lands it against Bucky’s other thigh, this time high enough that it _almost_ touches his fucking balls. 

His entire body clenches in protest at the never-ending unbearable sensation. He’s not sure how long this has been going on for but it’s enough to finally get Bucky whimpering and shrinking away when they finally stop again. 

“Bucky.” Trembling and, now admittedly terrified to keep going, Bucky manages to pick his head up again. Somehow, he could make out Steve’s face through blurry vision. “Listen to me, baby.” Steve’s voice is so soft. So calming. Bucky could listen to him talk for hours. “Please. It’s okay to give up. It’s okay. Cause I’m _with you_ to the end of the line.”

Bucky’s heart, he swears, skips a beat. Of course, that might just be a side effect of electroshock torture, but what does he know. All he knows is that line. Their line. What it means. 

Weak and out of breath, sick to his stomach and dizzy, the entire room tilts on its axis, and when the prod comes near him again, Bucky whimpers and shakes his head, shying away as best he can as he tries begging through the gag. 

“No,” he says, teeth gripped around the cloth. “No more, please. Please, no more.” 

“Are we ready then, Bucky?” Suit-and-Tie asks. “You wanna beg your Captain not to try to rescue you?” 

“Yes. Yes, yes. I will, I will, I swear. Just…please…” He weeps and struggles for breath. “Just…no more. Please…” 

Suit-and-Tie tells the man operating the battery to remove the gag. When it comes out, Bucky coughs and gags and coughs some more. Mr. Battery slaps his face to get his attention. He grabs Bucky’s chin and forces him to look at the computer. 

“Say it, Bucky,” Suit-and-Tie demands. Firmer now than earlier. “ _Say_ it and when we’re through, you’ll get to go home to your precious Captain America.” 

“Okay,” Bucky whispers. “Okay. I’m sorry, I…okay. Steve, please, don’t.” And then, in a rush and in French, “White American male. Mid-50s. Brown eyes and hair. Angel wings tattooed on the inside of his right wrist, most likely upper governm--”

Bucky howls in agony when the prod is slammed into his fucking balls. He screeches and shrieks and squeals, and the very last thing he’s able to make out over his screams of anguish before everything goes black is Steve’s voice, yelling in French, that he’ll find him. 

***

It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed since the electroshock treatment. Enough that Bucky’s been fed a few times. Not enough for the pain between his legs to have disappeared entirely. Thank god for this serum. It still hurts like a motherfucker, but Christ, it’d be so much worse without it. 

Man, Suit-and-Tie was pissed as fucking hell. Called both Bucky and Steve stubborn sons-of-bitches before cutting the communication off so that Bucky couldn’t give him any more information. Not that it mattered. 

When they sent so many volts of electricity through his nuts, it effectively cut off Bucky’s all means of speaking. But he got something out. Through all the torture and torment, Bucky found his opportunity and sent a message to Steve. 

Now, it’s just a matter of time. 

And when the lights above him start flickering in a strobe like way, Bucky, first, assumes this is more punishment. Only there’s something more. Yelling. Out in the distance. Gunfire. Shouting. Alarms blaring.

And Bucky grins.

There’s only one team in the world, led by one stubborn punk, who can kick up such a ruckus and send an entire place into a whirl of chaos. 

Not ten minutes later, the door is literally blown off its hinges and once the dust clears, Bucky bursts out laughing.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “I’ve never been so happy to see you.”

Before replying to Bucky, Sam smirks and says into his comms, “I got ‘im, Cap. Last room in the east corridor. All clear.” He steps into the room and pulls a blanket out of his pack, tossing it over Bucky while they wait for someone who can get these fucking restraints off of him. “Damn, man, you look like shit.”

Bucky snorts through a painful groan. “Go fuck yourself, birdman.” 

“Hey, I can leave you here.” 

“All right, all right.” Bucky chuckles. “You win.” 

Sam opens his mouth to give some witty retort but he never gets the chance. Steve appears in the doorway and when he locks eyes with Bucky, so much tension melts away. Between the two of them, they’d make a giant puddle of mush on the floor. 

“Steve…” Bucky whispers. “Oh, god, I love you.” 

“Oh, sure, _he_ gets the I love you.”

“Fine.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “I love you, too. Better? Now, will someone get me the fuck outta here?”

Steve is on his knees at Bucky’s side before he even finishes with his request. He captures Bucky’s face between his hands and presses a soft, lingering kiss. 

“Bucky,” he says as he pulls out something that almost looks like a tiny laser. Whatever it is, he’s able to cut the cuffs at Bucky’s wrists and ankles off. “Baby, I’m so sorry we didn’t get here sooner. I was looking. I swear. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

He keeps kissing Bucky in between apologies and declaration of love. If Bucky wasn’t still laying on this stupid bed, it’d be really sweet. While he does that, Sam, either used to their public displays of affection or not caring, goes on to tell Bucky that they’ve traced things all the way back to the director of another security organization. Bucky doesn’t catch his name since he’s much too preoccupied with kissing Steve. All he knows for sure is that they’ve gotten him and all the evidence they need to stop him. 

The rest of the team is here as well, rounding up the stragglers and lackeys and any higher-ups that happen to be here. 

When Steve finally moves away, he very gently helps Bucky up to a seated position. He makes him go slow and, for now, Bucky will humor him. 

“We’ve got clothes for you on the Quinjet,” Steve says as he slips Bucky’s arm over his shoulder. On Bucky’s other side, Sam comes and does the same so that he doesn’t need to use too much energy or strength to get there. “Is there anything else you want right now? Water? Food? I’ll get it for you as soon as we get there.”

“Yeah,” Bucky grunts as they make their way out of this fucking room. “Get me some ice for my fucking balls.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> Feel free to check me out on tumblr for more fun at [thebestpersonherelovesbucky](http://thebestpersonherelovesbucky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
